Boss
by lilgizzy1983
Summary: Nunu is the Boss. With her 4 best henchmen by her side, no one can touch her. Almost no one. Organized Crime Fic. Original characters, loosely based on an independent semi-biographical fiction novel, "More Than Life Itself"
1. Chapter 1

**Boss**

"Gizz, listen, I swear I gave Huey the full 5 Gs. Maybe he palmed some off the top. I mean, ya never know right? Come on, you know me Mami!"

The resulting sound was a sick comingling of metal vs metal, and the cracking of 8 bones in the hand of the grunt that tried to short them this week.

"Wrong. You see the difference is, Huey Baby is a trusted, high ranking member of our little business here. He's proven himself to me. It is not up to you to judge or question that. But YOU, I don't even know your name. Huey comes to my associate, and tells her that one of the grunts on 6 Block was short. I don't care about your basic bitch details. You're literally like the two-thousandth 'bro' I've had up in my face, bein' a dumb ass. It's up to me to get you here, and get our money, and get the fuck to the bar for my whiskey and my daily Jeopardy. Shit gets intense at the bar when it comes to Jeopardy." Huey silently nods his head in agreement. "So, do you see your role in this whole thing?"

The grunt didn't even register most of the words that came out of the mouth of the skinny, scrappy, Left Hand of the Boss. His bloody knuckles still actively being crushed against the hard metal table with a crow bar. He just wanted her to shut up and let up the bar. The rest of his body had already been worked over by the mid-level goons before he even got to Gizz's safe house of choice tonight.

Gizz lifted the bar, and let the guy writhe in pain for a few seconds. Crossing her arms, she enjoyed hearing him cry like a baby. Nobody questions her Huey. He was one of her most loyal higher up Handlers. She brought him up from just a street kid, barely 15. Gave him a home. Pulled him out of that shitty ass group foster joint, and put him up in one of her spare rooms. She always keeps a couple rooms open for new blood. Huey was one of her best. He told her his real name once, back when they first met. She doesn't remember it now. That first night, in the back of one of the business Town Cars, she tossed him a donut. As he ate it, she laughed, " _You big ass mthrfckr, you remind me of Baby Huey. You're gonna stick with me. Fuck that group home."_ For his young age, he had an impressively imposing physique. That has come in very usefully over the years.

Eventually, Gizz got sick of listening to the guy wail. That was enough.

"Huey, have somebody get him outta here. Patch him up enough that he can work and get me the rest of my cash. Then make sure to reiterate that this will be the first, and only, time he'll try to throw one of my guys under the bus, for his stupidity. If somebody stiffed him, it's up to him to take care of it, or to bring the bastard to one of you. If he palmed it, then I've made it pretty hard for him to palm anything ever again."

Huey chuckled to himself as he walked around the table to pick the grunt up. "She fucked up his hand...haha. Your jokes are for shit Ma."

"You're the one who laughed." As Huey pulled the guy out of the room from the scruff of his jacket, she yelled back. "And don't call me Ma in front of the peons!"

He just giggled out the door.

Nunu sat up in her office. She was looking over her reports from the day's business. She liked how H, her Right Hand, always had her paperwork just the way she liked it. Everything was finally streamlined, and had a perfect flow.

It took 2 decades to get full control over the Operation, and get the right people, in the right places. H always had everything under control. Between her and Mama Marie, the books were immaculate, the higher and mid-level goons were where they were supposed to be, doing what they were supposed to be doing. They were up 12% in profits from this time last year. In her daily reports, she had everything she needed to keep this Operation profitable for everyone involved, and make those personnel decisions that got her where she was today. Respected. Feared. But also beloved among her crew.

Boss could be very generous when she felt compelled. As long as her people are performing, and keeping up to task, she took care of everyone.

Sure, there was always the dirty business. That comes with the territory. She wouldn't be where she is if she'd had a problem with any of that. She made very specific rules. If those rules are not followed, there are consequences. Her team could be trusted to enforce what they needed to, and with the appropriate amount of force. If she needed to step in, H would be notified, and the core team would handle whoever it was threatening to lose her money, or to lose her freedom. Snitches, and traitors on her payroll were especially stupid. Thieves, they were case by case, those decisions she'd leave up to Gizz. She doesn't care about those details, unless it was something serious. There will always be a constant stream of dumb asses on the street who think they're hot shit. They think they can pull one over, or get away with it as long as it was such a small amount that they thought wasn't noticeable. That's not how she ran her territory. You step in, and you're in. If you want out, you better go through the right channels, and prove yourself trustworthy. Even then, you'll always be under surveillance. She had a whole department dedicated to security, and containment. A few even came straight from high government. They had some nice techniques and toys. Her hacker squad was especially effective. They rivaled the NSA and CIA.

*knock knock* Two swift knocks, it was H.

"It's open." She muttered.

"Hey Boss, grunts are all taken care of. No leaks. A couple one off shorts. Gizz has got 'em under control. Call it a night?"

Nunu took a glance at the time. 11:56 pm.

"Yeah, sounds good. I'll get over to the meet up for a nightcap with the crew, then I'm out for a REAL nightcap. Much needed." Nunu implied.

Only H knew the ins and outs of the Boss's personal time. Nunu had no place in her world for curious employees, or the minions being in any of her personal business. Gizz knew some, just from being around for so long. She was Left Hand Hand and a trusted vault. The Enforcement. Gizz had access to pretty much the same scope of the Operation as H, but with a lot lower visibility. H was more the face of the business. Mama Marie was the money, and the intel. If they needed a name, or a leak plugged, Mama Marie could find it, and get everything over to Gizz.

Nunu did have one Ace. Her only freelancer. Not on the payroll. No documentation. The solution when enforcement escalated to the point where a permanent resolution was necessary. H would come to Nunu, and behind closed doors, Nunu would provide H with the heavy hitter's one time burner number. H would take it from there, hand the one time use contact information to Gizz, along with cash from Mama Marie, and Gizz would make it happen. H didn't know, or ask, how Nunu always had the new number. That's why Nunu was the Boss.

Nothing traceable to Nunu, or H. Mama Maria was completely behind the scenes. And Gizz knew what she was doing. The only people outside of the Operation that even knew Gizz was involved, were the ones that wish they didn't.

After the nightcap at the bar, Nunu was dropped off, along with her muscle, to her hotel's secure Penthouse. Only one known way up. A private elevator. One goon in the lobby in plain clothes. Two goons at the elevator door. One of whom would escort Nunu on the ride up the elevator, but not set foot in the Penthouse itself. You have to be invited in to the Penthouse. And not many people were invited. Not even H knew who was up there with Nunu. Let alone how they got in. It was completely secure.

Nunu was feeling especially tense today, and needed something to help wash away the day. She sent the goon off down the elevator, and locked it with her fingerprint pad at the door. Shrugging off her suit jacket, and loosened her tie, before removing it. She kicked off her boots under an end table, and poured herself her nightly two fingers of expensive scotch from her personal bar. There were only ever three glasses on the bar. No more or less where necessary.

She rolled her neck, as she strolled to the bathroom for a long, hot shower. Setting the scotch on the eye level self in the shower, she turned on the water and got undressed. Her shower, her space, her home. It was the only place Nunu got to be herself. Just a woman, enjoying the three shower jets, set to the perfect water pressure, and temperature. As she let her shoulders loosen in the heat, she heard the door open, and pants fall to the floor.

"No trouble today, you're off the hook for tomorrow. Gizz has it handled. We can sleep in." Nunu stated calmly, as she smirked to herself.

"Good, I'll take my special knives out just for play then." Her new company stated.

"Ooo, whats the occasion?" She asked, barely stifling her excited tone.

"No reason." He opened the curtain, and entered the shower from behind her. "You look like you need the extra fun."

She chuckled. "Absolutely!"

He had his arms wrapped around her waist, and pulled her towards him. As he pressed his lips against her neck, she felt the business stress of the day melt away. He was always her Ace in the Hole.

"...Bane..."


	2. Chapter 2

"21st and Central...11." Five words Nunu spoke.

Gizz nodded, as she was walking out the door of Nunu's office. As H was walking into the building from the street, she slapped Gizz's hand goodbye. During the slap, H had passed small leather wallet. It was a maneuver they'd performed so many times at this point, it had become their actual way of greeting each other...wallet or not.

Gizz slipped the wallet into the front pocket of her loose-fitting men's cotton pants, and walked 7 blocks east. There was an all night, cash, dilapidated cash parking lot. There were always the same 4 cars. Her's, the owner's, the resident homeless man named George's old Ford, and new model large cargo van in which George lived. Sometimes, there was the odd shady customer that would wander in for cheap parking, in order to sleep off their bender. Today it was just the four.

She walked over to the cash booth, and paid the random kid of the week. The owner would throw kids from the neighborhood a bone if they needed to make a quick buck after school. There is a constant 24 hour surveillance on the teller, so they wouldn't dare palm any cash on the side. Not that there were many people in and out. But damned if that owner ever saw anybody filming towards the lot. Camera on the teller, and the teller ONLY. Gizz reached into her bra, and pulled out $4000 cash.

"For me, George, and my van. April." She said succinctly.

The kid stood dumbfounded. He looked like he'd never even seen a $100 bill, let alone that many all at once.

"Kid? You got it?!" Gizz snapped him out of his shock. "Do I need to write it down?"

"OH, naw naw, I got it! I'll put it right in the box. See?" He did what he said.

"Good boy." She started to walk over to the car, but only got a couple of steps before shaking her head and turning back. "How much your Pops make a month?"

"Um...No Pops. Ma works at a doctor' office. I don't know, like $400 a week I guess?"

She took of her hat, and popped him over a grand cash, and a hotel room key with a sharpie written room number on it.

"The Forcier Hotel two blocks that way. Nobody there needs to know your business. Charge any room service to the room. There's a number taped to the phone if yuz need anything else. You've got 2 months. Make the most of it. Call the number when you leave. And kid, if I ever see you workin' these streets, you're gonna pay all that shit back. Plus interest. You hear me?"

He just stared at her. Gizz raised her eyebrows expecting a response.

"Umm..yeah, YEAH! Thanks lady! I'll call. Thank you!" He stammered. He looked scared, ecstatic, and trying to play as cool as he could.

"Kid?"

"Yeah"

"I'm no lady."

With that, Gizz got in her car, got changed, and went on her way. She rode to the edge of their territory, about 12 blocks up. She parked on the busy street, and walked over another 3 blocks over to 21st and Central. She wore her self-imposed uniform. It consisted of her pirate bandanna, a very expensive, authentic black eye patch over her right eye, and a brand new piece of black linen that tightly covered everything else from the neck up. All of which she put on 2 blocks after she left the car. The rest was simple. Her red UnderArmor shirt, and her beloved tight black leather sleeveless vest. Her basic black jeans covered up countless stains. Her old black work boots were shaved on the soles, smooth as a baby ass, completely untraceable. It was completely different than anything else she ever wore in her normal life. This was always her chance to play the part of her alter ego. No restrictions, never worried about what someone would think of what she'd say or do. Completely untamed. No one she interacted with on a daily basis would really know who she was when she let this side out.

"Captain Black, you gonna speak this time?" Bane waited a beat. "No?" She put her Bluetooth earbuds in, and handed him the wallet. They were under the cover of the dumpster in the alley next to the building in question. Bane removed the 8 Visa gift cards, with $1000 each. He handed the wallet, along with the 4 remaining cards, back over to "Captain Black".

"Alright, play time." Bane said with a smile and a raise of the eyebrow. Bane easily popped off the hinges of the side fire escape door, and slid it to the side against the wall. They were perfectly in sync as they glided into the apartment complex. They were strangely graceful in their movements, like raptors in unison. On the hunt.

This was the most exciting part for Captain Black, on the way in. So close to what they were about to do. Excited to see the person's face when they silently overpowered their way in. Everyone was unique in their reactions. Neither of them really had a preference of how the subjects acted. They were like tattoos. Each a snapshot, a fingerprint. No one hit was the same. That's what made it so special.

Apartment 3E.

Bane stopped at the door, and glanced over at Black. He handed over a simple, safety orange, dead blow hammer. Then, Black's favorite weapon of choice, a gun metal steel, tactical talon knife. Razor sharp. Bane would sharpen the blade, and retape the handles of both weapons with polymer tape. He knew Black wasn't a fan of callouses.

Bane took his bag in one hand, and a standard 3" straight blade in the other. He glanced at his cheap waterproof watch, and nodded over at Black to knock on the door. It was exactly 11:00 pm.


End file.
